The Father of Zeus
by Jane Meurig
Summary: Age of Mythology, from the Age of Empires series, has an Odyssey-scale campaign full of plot twists. Gods, mythical beasts, and heroes abound in this epic story. This is the new title for "Falling Hurts."
1. Chapter 1

She rolled over in her sleep, but bumped her head against something hard and wooden next to her. When she opened her eyes she saw it was a wall, but it was rocking. After rubbing the sleep away and looking around she could see more clearly that she was aboard a ship and lying in the bed of guest quarters. It was nowhere near where she thought she'd fallen asleep, which was at her desk with her head resting on the keyboard and computer screen still blaring:

**Continue your journey?**

Next Scenario

Campaign Menu

Difficulty level

– Easy – Moderate – Hard – Titan

She sat up and put her feet over the edge of the bed, but immediately her head throbbed violently. After sitting a moment her brain regained orientation and the throbbing lessened, but there was no doubt the wall of the ship wasn't all she bumped her head on. She looked at her watch, but it had stopped at 11:56 pm the night before – around when she fell asleep. She sighed and reexamined the room. It looked foreign and ancient to say the least. She thought it might be a very accurate, detailed Ancient Greek revival, though why she was there she had no idea. Her thoughts and wonderings were increased a thousand fold when a man walked through the door looking ready for the Trojan War.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, smiling and putting something down beside her bed.

Thinking didn't make her feel any better but she had to ask still dazed and groggy, "Where am I?"

"We're nearing Sikyos," he answered plainly.

"How on earth did I get from Seattle to... someplace... in one night?"

He shrugged, then asked curiously, "Seattle?"

"Yeah. There's lots of coffee there. I'd love some coffee right now... "

"Cough-y? That doesn't sound pleasant."

"It would sure make my head hurt a lot less." She rubbed her temples and forehead a little, then asked again, "Where am I?"

"On a ship headed toward Troy."

"Isn't that the city that got all burned up or something? Homer... and the Simsons with coffee and donuts... wait, no, the Iliad... and, um... Ancient Greeks... "

"_Ancient_ Greek?"

"Well, yeah... " He looked clueless out of his mind, which only exploded more questions. In fact, they both had plenty of questions and so far they'd covered very little. She rubbed the back of her head, both in frustration and in pain. The throbbing hadn't completely subsided.

"You took quite a fall," he mentioned, acknowledging her smarting head.

"What?"

He rubbed his chin. "You don't remember? Well, how do I say it believably? You... fell from the sky."

She put her feet up on the bed again and rested her head on her knees, sighing. "This gets harder and harder to believe every second."

He sighed as well then gesturing to the tray he'd brought in that she only now noticed had food, he said, "Eat something and you might feel better." And he left her to her peace.

She looked at the tray of bread and wine. It looked simple enough. No strange ancient vegetables or eyeball soup here. But when she grabbed the hunk of bread she found it to be hard and tough and knew before even attempting to bite it that it would be too hard to eat. She took a sip of wine and found it much better, though not as good as the coffee she was imagining. She finished her wine, left the baked rock on the tray, and fell asleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you grammaguy for the comments! I changed the elipses thing. It must be Californian education... it's awful. Not to mention I got stuck in a regular history class instead of AP US history because of conflicts in my schedule and the school's. Everybody's classes are chaos since my school switched schedules this year, and the new structure isn't worth it at all. It's just cheaper. :P Blech.

Anyway, about the _triere: _that was something I researched, and that was another name for the trireme. Denae is simply saying the names she's studied.

* * *

The pain was less intense and the man came three times a day into her room with meals. She wondered why he was the only one who ever did show himself, but she could hear far too many footsteps, voices, and oars from above her for it to be a one-man crew. The second day she woke up absolutely starving and with the man already sitting on her right with another tray of the same food next to the other. He pointed at the uneaten bread and noted to her, "It's easier to eat when you soak it in the wine."

"Oh... um, sorry."

He shook his head lightly. "It's all right, I got you an extra cup of water."

Indeed, the tray he'd brought had two bowls, one of wine and one of water. She didn't want him to watch her eat, but he was obviously not inclined to move, so she took the first slab of bread and the wide cup of water and dipped the former into the latter. She let it soak for a bit then pulled it out and took a bite. The bread was soft now, but sloppy, making it even worse for him to sit there staring. The bread was grainy but still alright. The process, soaking and eating while trying not to drip, presented a long task that she had to repeat for the second chunk, though she was grateful afterward for the meal, however plain.

When she finished, he smiled as ever and introduced himself. "I'm Arkantos—"

"I _am_ in Ancient Greece!"

"What is so ancient about Greece?"

It was as though her entire brain was absent one minute before and had suddenly come running in like a child late for school. "I'm a _professor of mythology_, why didn't I see this before? Arkantos... you're the guy from the campaign of that wonderful computer game one of my students recommended... and now I'm on a _triere_, or maybe a bireme or pentekonter, going to—" she gasped and Arkantos was startled by this sudden onrush. "You said we're headed to Troy. We're going to the Trojan War?! My God, if my head didn't hurt I'd think this was a dream!"

"Are you all right?"

"No! Wait... the Trojan War's been going on pretty long, right?"

"Almost ten years, but what—"

"Right, right! I knew that! It's all in that game. At least it won't take too long to... but that still means we have to... and what about the... and someone has to... and people are going to... I don't do this much field work! I'm not an archeologist, I'm a historian! I'm gonna die!" She crashed back upon her pillow in exasperation. Arkantos was speechless. She was almost shouting, and because she didn't finish half of her ideas, he hadn't a clue what she was shouting about.

After a moment he asked, "Should I go now?"

She sat up abruptly and insisted, "No! I need to... no, you need to ask questions. I know a lot more about you than you do about me."

"The crew thinks you are a message from Helios, a star. They call you Ourania."

"No, my name's Denae. Ah... why would they think that?"

"You fell from the sky at midday." It seemed that proved it for the credulous man.

"Do I look like I have godly powers to you?"

"You came out of the water dry and recovered in only three days."

She stood up. Denae had to get out of the confining little room and see for herself if there really was a bigger picture, and that this wasn't just a hoax. And if people saw her in strange, futuristic clothes (jeans and a t-shirt, precisely), then so be it.

Arkantos backed away from her bed and let her pass through the door. She stepped into a skinny passage and turned right to go up some stairs. Another door at the top opened to the scrubbed smell of ocean spray and pinewood. A long line of benches with one man rowing at each extended to the end of the ship where a staircase led to the upper deck. Every man's scarred face turned toward her when she appeared and looked surprised in unison. Denae felt only thrill and wonder and proceeded down the row, up the steps, and into the open. The sky was big and clear, the transparent clouds tripping lightly across it. A vague impression of a palace could be seen beneath the dark water full of strange plants and creatures. Everything around seemed to bear an imprint of spirit and divinity on it, as though the gods had settled their marks on anything that took their interest.

The passing gale snatched her breath away at the sight of water all around except for the occasional rocky island amidst the great deep blue. Denae had been to Greece once, before she started teaching, and none of it brought her as much awe. A life presence filled the air and sea and body, making every breath an intake of all the senses. Such a feeling did not exist where she came from.

"Are you alright?" came a feeble voice from behind her.

Denae realized she was on her knees and turned around to see an old man with a staff. "Yes... I-I'm fine."

Arkantos came up the stairs after her and glanced between the two. "Are you alright?" he asked, repeating the old man without knowing it.

She stood up and leaned against the mast. "Don't you ever get dizzy with all this around you?"

"With what all around? The sea?" Arkantos guessed.

"Not just the sea... this... this..." She could not find the word. There were no words to describe the feeling of existing in a time far from her own.

"Do you see anything?" the white-haired, half-balding man questioned, tilting his head to one side curiously.

"I—" she paused and realized what his question meant, "There's a palace under the water, and symbols... in the sky... I can't really explain it. It all isn't just what it is... I'm not making sense."

"No, you make fine sense. The gods are showing you omens but you do not know how to read them. And the sea is Poseidon's realm, so naturally you see a palace there." He stood up a little straighter on his knobby staff and stated with authority, "Arkantos, she may be a sign from the gods and a possible connection with them."

"Perhaps." Arkantos sat leaning his back against the mizzen mast and started thinking, showing no signs of leaving that spot for a while.

The old man looked at her as though to say, 'this better be good,' then slowly, carefully, and tediously climbed down the stairs to lower deck, leaning heavily on his staff all the while. Denae took the steps up to the stern and looked out at the receding landscape behind them. Waves drifted by while the ship carried silently on, toward a long and hard war of which she already knew the fate. How funny it was that she had fallen from the sky into the midst of this ancient culture to be thought of as a godsend. Funny that she was headed to the Trojan War at the brink of its end, into an adventure she would never have dreamed of. And if her guess was right, Arkantos and his men still thought they were only chasing bandits. It's amazing what pirates can do, and one should never underestimate them. They are pirates for a reason... the same reason they _stay_ pirates.

Denae awoke to the sound of a soldier shouting, "Black sails! Port side!" She hadn't even noticed she fell asleep.

Arkantos replied, "And he leads us to Kamos, too," then shouted the orders, "Archers, ready your bows! Prepare to come about! They're going to pay for insulting Poseidon – and Atlantis!" The ship turned left toward an island and some ships that she hadn't noticed at first, and Arkantos ran up to her. "Go below deck with Theocrat and wait until this is finished. This shouldn't take long."

She'd already played through the whole campaign once (with cheats, of course), and was going through it a second time without cheats just to test herself. So she already knew the plot. And she did NOT want to be a part of it.

And, despite what Arkantos thought, this _would_ take a while. But orders were orders, so she went below deck, retracing her footsteps to the tiny room she slept in, then went past it to a much larger cabin at the stern of the ship. It was furnished with a desk, two chairs, some cabinets, a straw mattress with some sheets bundled on top, and lots of maps. She found this so-called Theocrat there, sitting heavily on one of the chairs, leaning on his overlarge staff. He was bald on top of his head, but there was still a halo of wiry white hair around the sides and back of his skull, making him look somewhat eccentric. The unsurpassably knobby and crooked staff which was also a foot taller than him only added to the look. His fully-sleeved, full-skirted, white robe hung on his body like a curtain, his body like the skinny curtain rod. Even more so in this light than outside, he looked incredibly frail.

He looked up when she entered and waved a hand absently. "Yes, I am an old man," he said. "And I do not think I will be going home."

Denae stared. She didn't know what to say, mainly because she didn't know what he was going to say.

"I am a priest, of Poseidon, and I have told Arkantos many times that the god has been ignoring our prayers and seems to be caught up in something. The man does not believe me." At this point he started coughing and Denae had to interpret his strangled instructions and find him a cup of water. When he was breathing properly again he continued, "I must believe that you can show him what I cannot, and make him understand that something is happening."

She nodded hastily, remembering every word but not yet understanding it.

But then the boat did a nasty jolt, throwing the old man off his chair and sideways on the mattress, and Denae careening over it and into a big wooden armoire, giving her a nasty bruise on the hip. Crunching, splitting noises came from somewhere mid-ship on the port side where, she assumed, an enemy ship was plowing into theirs. The boat was turning away from it now, though, and she felt the boat starting to right itself.

She had a strong urge to disobey orders and go back to the upper decks, but then remembered that there were probably lots of arrows, plus the occasional monster or two.

Shouting and thwacking noises came down from the deck and then only shouting was left. Theocrat nodded and Denae instantly ran back up the hall and the steps to see the enemy sails departing with one ship instead of the original two, and all the soldiers crowded on the deck waving their swords and cheering. She shook her head. It wasn't over yet.

On the deck not far away was a gap in the railing and a five-foot-square mess of broken wood planks where the enemy ship had made a little contact. She was thankful it hadn't made more. Theocrat appeared at her side, wheezing and puffing for breath. Arkantos weaved his way through the packed-in Atlanteans who kept saluting him and grinning, and when he neared the little old man he asked, "What does Poseidon tell you?"

"He does not answer my prayers, sire," he answered calmly, "He may be angry."

"We wait in hope, my friend." Arkantos did look rather anxious. Denae could tell he trusted Theocrat's word, but couldn't quite grasp the real meaning. She did, but that's because she knew _exactly_ what Poseidon was concerned with, and that it wouldn't make much sense to them at this point.

And how would she tell them that they would not all survive?

This was going to be difficult.


	3. Chapter 3

"Those ships that escaped aren't going far," Arkantos said once the soldiers had quieted down, "We're going ashore to set up camp and get Atlantis' trident back from Kamos!"

At this they started cheering again, but not for long because they had to start running about the ship again, hauling ropes and such. Denae, Theocrat, and eight soldiers took an Ancient Greek equivalent of a dinghy to shore where lines were tossed from the ship. They dragged the ship out of the water and tied her down for when the tide came back up. The other two boats which didn't need repairs were anchored offshore, and the sailors in them rowed up in more weird dinghies.

Finally everyone was assembled on the beach, and Arkantos gave new orders. "All right, you four start cutting timber up there." He pointed up the beach to a hill where there was a small wood. He addressed the next bunch, "You six, start clearing out the broken pieces, and you two can chop it into firewood. The rest of you, assemble your tents." Then he waved a hand to one young man calling, "Scout, see those cliffs? Can you find a way up and see if you can see anything from up there? I have a feeling Kamos is on the other side."

The skinny boy nodded, saluted, and ran off speedily up the beach. He was _very_ fast.

Denae had been standing next to Theocrat the whole time, watching the army almost with envy. If only students could be that organized.

She woke up from her daydreaming when Theocrat tugged on the hem of her t-shirt. They were the only ones left on the beach besides the men working on the ship and he gestured for her to sit down next to him on the sand. "I know where these men think you are from," he began, "Now where do _you_ think you are from?"

"Um..."

"It's complicated, isn't it?"

"Yes. I mean...in a kind of typical way."

"Interesting. But will it take three hours to tell?"

"What?"

"That's how long all this will take," he waved a hand at all the men bustling about on the hillside. "It is now or later, your pick."

"Oh, um..." She sighed and scratched her head methodically, trying to find a way to say it all without having to explain Earth, computers and their finer details, strategy games, and plots. But she was a teacher, and, she reassured herself, teachers always know how to explain things. "Well, there's this story. And I'm inside of it."

"Hmm..."

"—I think."

"That's interesting. Do you know what happens next?" he inquired.

"No," she lied.

"Hmm." He gave her a calculating look, but didn't press the question further.

Denae didn't know how, but she could tell he knew she was lying, so she hastily changed the subject. "Um, Theocrat sounds like an occupation...so what's your real name?"

He nodded, then answered, "My name is Marcus. Really, I am just another member of the Atlantean High Council, not the Theocrat. I was glad to give up the position when young Krios stepped up. I think he was a bit surprised he didn't have to use force to take over Atlantis."

Denae could hardly believe she was hearing this tone from the mouth of this wise, old man. But while part of her was speechless, the other part commandeered control of her mouth and blurted out, "Young Krios?"

"He's only sixty-two."

She gave him a skeptical look and he chuckled at her. But her mouth was still under the control of the rebel part of her brain. "And what do you mean, 'take over Atlantis'?"

"He was ambitious, and he had goals for the state. He also believed Poseidon favored him." Marcus, the name to which Denae was now trying to accustom herself, shrugged – a gesture that made him look skeleton-like. "I was almost eighty at the time, and he was in his fifties. I was getting ill and weary and old and ready to retire. It is not easy to reach my age in this world, let me tell you that."

"I believe you."

"He has done well so far. Not all men who take control are bad."

She nodded. "But then... being Theocrat must be kind of posh. You felt you were too old for that, and yet you're not too old to go to battle against the Trojans?"

"No, political positions are exhausting, but you're also right. I'm too old for this. I told Arkantos I couldn't go with him this time, but he insisted on bringing along someone with _experience_." He laughed harshly and ran his hand through the sand, sifting it between his withered fingers. "Arkantos doesn't want to admit _he's_ getting older, that's why. He likes to keep with him all the people he's grown up with."

"Ah. I know how that is. But... you've basically retired?"

"I'm one of the three high priests now, but Arkantos still calls me by my old title." He sighed and stared out across the water. He sat there silently for a long time, so Denae kept herself occupied by looking around and thinking about her unlikely position. It's not every day you fall into a computer game. That kind of thing only happened in stories. Then again, she _was_ in a story, so things like this _did_ happen.

She supposed that she'd have to follow it through to the end of the plot to get back to where she came from, but that same part of her brain that was in constant conflict with the rest decided to give her a scare, thinking, _But what if the plot doesn't end where you think it does? What if this isn't just like all the other stories and you die or something?_ That set off a whole chain reaction through the rest of her body, first making the other half of her mind start thinking similar thoughts, then heading out of her skull through her ear, which started throbbing, then moving along down her arms and face so she started biting her fingernails, and finally finishing with her feet which both decided the best thing to do was tap the ground incessantly. To all appearances she was a complete nervous wreck. The worst part was, she couldn't stop thinking of all the bad things that were bound to happen, and therefore couldn't stop panicking about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **Yay! I can barely believe how much it helped me to write a novel in a month last November. Now I can actually finish things within the time limits I place on myself. There's no need for inspiration now. The creative flow comes when I start typing. It gets easier and easier to simply write chapters in one go, then edit them a couple times, then post them!

I think I've got a routine going for me, here. Write in the morning for 2-3 hours after breakfast, take a break to go on facebook or memorize lines/music for the two plays I'm in right now, eat lunch, write for a couple more hours, post a chapter, then go to rehearsal! I left out the bits about getting distracted by my attention-needy cat. :D

Anyway, that means you can expect somewhat regular chapters. Depending on the chapter it could take 2-4 days, I think. That's with chapters 1000-1500 words, since I seem to have started writing them that length consistently. It's the editing that takes the most time.

Btw, Denae is probably older than you think. You'll find out next chapter. Also, I found out that 'Denae' is actually spelled 'Danae.' I've been wrong. Oh, well, I'm not changing it.

* * *

Suddenly, Marcus pulled himself up and walked toward the men who had started chopping the broken beams from the ship, picked out three short logs and some of the smaller splintered pieces, and by some miracle managed to carry it all back to where Denae was still sitting. He set them in the sand and gestured for her to start arranging them while he pulled out a satchel hanging from his shoulder by a leather strap, previously hidden in the deep folds of his robes. When his hand emerged from the pouch, it held two striking stones for starting fires. By the time the fire was fully going, only twenty or so minutes later, the sun was halfway concealed behind the horizon.

"They should be done, soon," Marcus informed her, wheezing a little after the exercise.

"Oh... that's good."

She observed his words to be true as torches were lit throughout the camp, the tents being completed.

The old man sighed and said, "The pirates will likely attack us tonight, but we'll have soldiers at the ready. Just try to sleep and ignore the noise."

She shivered. "Is that, um, something I'll get used to?"

"No. I haven't, anyway."

"Oh. That's... good to know."

He patted her on the shoulder and said, "The best thing that could happen is for you to sleep through it. Now, I smell dinner, so I think it's time we joined them." He stood up, unsteadily at first, then walked up the sandy hill of the beach toward the array of tents and men which were lit pink and red in the lengthening light.

Denae wiped her sweating palms on her jeans, taking a deep breath to try to make the anxiousness go away. It didn't work. Hopefully she would sleep through it. That way she wouldn't have to remember it. She remained by the smaller campfire for a while, staring at the Mediterranean Sea as the sun set. She was on the west side of an island inhabited by pirates, accompanied by an army of Poseidon-worshipping, ancient Atlanteans, on a quest that only unfolds as the story goes along. She rubbed her temples trying to remember the series of events in the campaign, but could only recall the basic premise of the plot (Kronos promised Poseidon's descendant immortality in exchange for Kronos' freedom), and she knew they would travel all over the map. She also knew some other villains were involved, and not much would be apparent until after the Trojan War, but most importantly: Arkantos would sacrifice himself to save Atlantis in the end. That memory was stuck in Denae's mind more than any other.

The priest had said something to her earlier, that there was something he was unable to tell Arkantos that he hoped she could convey, but she didn't know what it was. She couldn't possibly tell the hero that he would die in a year or so. No... Marcus had been talking about the gods. This fight was going to be about more than pirates, and Arkantos didn't know it. You'd think a forty-four-year-old Admiral would be less naive.

Suddenly, an aquatic, horse-like creature surfaced several meters from the edge of the water. It bared its horse teeth as it bobbed in the waves momentarily, then slipped underwater again soundlessly.

Denae furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully. That Hippocamp had not looked docile. It had looked threatening, and the threat was undoubtedly from Poseidon.

"Would you like some dinner?"

Denae jumped in surprise at the voice of Arkantos, whom she didn't notice come up beside her, then she took a deep, steadying breath. All that silent thinking allowed the outside world to catch her off-guard.

"Um, yes please," she answered, realizing that it had been most of the day since she last ate. Her stomach grumbled a little.

He handed her a bowl of water, and a second bowl with another hunk of bread beside a slice of grilled fish that had fallen apart of its own accord. That was a good sign that it was tender. Her mouth started watering just looking at it.

He sat down on the sand next to her as she placed the bowls in front of her crossed legs. She took a handful of the savory-looking (despite its lack of spices other than salt) meat and nearly shoveled it in her mouth when she noticed Arkantos' worried gaze. But rather than staring at her, amazed by her almost-ravaging hunger, he was staring at the food. There was fat on it.

If she hadn't been a professional in the study of mythology, she never would have realized that this was important. She carefully picked off the fat, tossed it in the fire as recognition to the gods, and _then_ ate the meat.

Again, Arkantos watched her eat, which was unnerving. She could tell he was not the subtle or tactful type. She tried to strike up a conversation to fill up the awkward silence.

"So..." She couldn't think of anything interesting. Deciding that she would just have to talk about things she already knew, she asked, "You're from Atlantis?"

"Yes. I'm the Admiral, and this is my... army – or lack thereof." He sighed longingly. "Just one sector of Atlantis' old army was ten times the size of this band of squabbling monkeys. Not one of these men has ever truly feared for his life."

"Well... you're headed for Troy, so that will probably change. Um, you've got a long road ahead of you."

Arkantos looked at her with disbelief. Her words were prophet-like, but the 'um' rather spoiled the effect.

She dug her hole even deeper. "There's lots of, um, monsters and... things. You know, to be afraid of. Um." She took a bite of the hard, dry bread just to shut herself up. She chewed it with welcome difficulty.

"Do you know what we may expect at Troy?" he asked somewhat eagerly.

The jaw work was painful now, and she couldn't chew any faster. Instead of waiting to be able to speak, she nodded, hoping her knowledge of his future wouldn't lead to anything. Then again, she knew it would.

"How long will it take to end?"

She finally swallowed and answered hesitantly, "Um, a few months... maybe."

Insistently, he asked, "And which side will win?"

She couldn't possibly reveal that, she thought. So she lied. "Well, it, um... depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Um, how soon you get there."

"I'll make haste with the pirates, then!" he said excitedly as he stood up – not necessarily gracefully since he wasn't as young as he used to be – and jog-walked up the beach to the camp.

There was a shout from the camp that Denae couldn't make out just as Arkantos was halfway up the sandy slope. He heard it, and in response turned around to Denae, waving his hand beckoningly. She finished the last sip of water, picked up the other bowl, and followed him. She only walked.

When she reached the top, Arkantos was speaking to one of his lower officers. Nodding to her respectfully, Arkantos walked off to attend to some other duty while the other man dealt with Denae. He spoke very clearly and purposefully. "I will lead you to your tent."

He turned and headed off with Denae in tow. He weaved through several rows before he stopped at a small tent near the central campfire. It seemed very secure surrounded by so many others.

"Here you are," the man said as he opened the flap for her. Once she was inside, he nodded again and walked away, doing even the simplest tasks and movements with the precision that most people would reserve for map-making.

Someone had recently lit a candle, which unfortunately smelled since it was made of animal fat rather than wax. There were two blankets and no other furnishings. She supposed they didn't have any extra clothes for her, either, since efficient armies didn't bring more than they needed and soldiers supplied personal items for themselves.

_Pity_, she thought as she lay down on the ground. _I always liked playing Greek dress-up_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** This chapter is twice as long as the others because I wanted to finish the scenario in this one. I don't know what I'm going to write before I write it, though, so a lot more stuff happened than I expected. 0.o

There was also a lot less dialogue in this one. I like dialogue. Please tell me if I get too carried away with narration. :D And... enjoy.

* * *

She didn't open her eyes at first, but she woke up. She didn't open her eyes for a reason: she was afraid of seeing what she just heard.

Whatever it was had cried out with its animal voice as it was – she assumed – killed. The sound had been dog-like, as if it combined a bark and a whimper. Then there was a thump and a tearing noise, followed by running footsteps that faded away.

She realized she had been holding her breath, so she let it out as she opened her eyes. It was too dark to see much, but torches were lit outside that caused shadows on the walls of her tent. Everything was in hues of gray and black, and she couldn't make out any clear forms in the large, disfigured silhouette.

She thought she should be able to smell something, but couldn't. When she sniffed and rubbed her nose a bit, she realized it was because her nose was stuffy – a result of mild pollen allergies. Those always seemed to act up in even the most dire situations.

Before she knew it, the battle seemed to be over. At least, most of the sounds besides footsteps were gone. There were also a lot fewer figures silhouetted against her tent. Scrabbling around her blankets to find her shoes, she found them on her feet where she'd left them. That's how quickly she fell asleep. Stretching a bit, she found tension in her back and shoulders, her forty-year-old muscles not cut out for such a bed. She got up and peeked out of the tent flap.

Further down the row of tents in her line of vision, Arkantos stood with his spear in one hand and a torch in the other. The spear was stuck in a seven-foot tall Anubite, though it didn't appear as tall because it kept its knees bent and its body hunched over. In the light of the torch, Denae could see Arkantos' profile and a full view of the mythical creature. It lifted its head and uttered a low growl with its last breath, dying with that frozen expression and its canine teeth bared. Arkantos pressed his foot against the carcass as counterforce when he removed his spear, then the body curled up and fell limp on the ground.

Arkantos turned toward her suddenly, his already sharp facial features made harsh in the bare firelight. She could see the armor on his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breath, made heavy by the exercise of battle. She wondered how he managed to stay in shape when she, close in age to him, couldn't even sleep on the ground without her back, neck, and everything attached getting stiff and knotted.

He stood still for a moment, holding her stare, then lowered his spear and walked toward her slowly. Regaining his breath, he said, "They didn't do much damage."

She looked around and noticed that there weren't many bodies on the ground. Also, the majority of them were Egyptian-looking, not Greek.

"They had a small force," he explained, "Only fifty or so, including the Anubites. I don't think they realize that I have two hundred men; I would go to the Troy with no less."

"Well, now that they have fifty fewer men, you could, um, counter them more easily."

"Today, I hope. It's almost dawn, so we should set out at noon. You may rest some more while my men clean up—"

"Oh, no... I don't think I can fall back to sleep now. I'll just, um, find something to do."

Arkantos nodded and walked off to find his lieutenants and give them orders.

Denae looked around at the gray, barely-lit camp now that the light of Arkantos' torch was gone. Stepping carefully, she went to the Anubite's corpse. It had thick, rough, black fur and long, yellow teeth made for tearing flesh. At its shoulders there was a line where the fur met tan skin. The creature's human hand was clenched in a fist around a dagger that it had been unable to use after it died too soon. She took the weapon out of curiosity. It was plain and somewhat crude, and she guessed it was bronze. Rotating it by the cloth-wrapped hilt, she saw that it had small, uneven, jagged edges – a rough attempt to serrate the blade. Denae, knowing she was unable to use it, put it back on the ground carefully. It had been a little heavier than she expected, and she was glad to have the unwieldy thing out of her hands.

Standing back up, she scanned the sky to find a faint glow from the horizon, just visible above the tents. She worked her way through the camp, attempting to get out by simply going in as straight a line as possible, sometimes using the morning glow as reference, as well as the fact that there was a cliff rising above one side of the camp, and the sea below the other. She emerged looking toward the water over which she could see the first rays of sunlight. Ignoring the pleas of her stiff muscles, she clambered down the beach. When she reached the water, she dipped her hands in and splashed her face. The water was extremely cold but refreshing, so she let it drip down her face with her eyes closed for a moment.

Denae, never losing sight of the camp, wandered down the waterline at a slow pace until the sun was several degrees higher. She vaguely remembered that enemy scouts were posted about the island in this scenario, though she couldn't remember where. To stay safe, she didn't travel far. After a while she gave up trying to keep herself busy and laid down in the sand. Wondering if she would have many chances to be bored for a while, she contemplated the lines on her index finger.

The sun rose higher and the camp buzzed with soldiers preparing for battle. The pirates' bodies were piled and burned on the north side of the camp so that the wind would blow the smoke away. Meanwhile the earth grew warm, helped by the wind from the south, heating and increasing the anxiousness before the attack.

Denae woke up from her nap by the sounds of marching feet coming down the beach toward the ships. She could see some of their smiling faces from where she was, and their excitement was infectious. Rather than staying to watch them finish boarding the ships, she climbed back up the hill toward the campfires where she hoped there would be food.

There was food, and there was also Marcus among a few servants who did not fight alongside their masters.

The priest sighed as she sat down next to him.

"What is it?" she asked through a mouthful of fish.

"Arkantos asked me to pray to Poseidon again – to favor us in battle," he explained.

She swallowed then mentioned, "I saw a Hippocamp last evening."

"A message from Poseidon? A blessing?" he questioned hopefully.

"Well, um... not a blessing as such, no. What does it mean if it, um, bared its teeth?"

The old man was silent for a moment. "I had hoped at first that you would be a message from Poseidon yourself, but I cannot figure out the meaning of your presence at all. The Hippocampus was a sign that Poseidon is here and he's paying attention to us, but he's not on our side. We must be very careful." He went silent again, only much longer this time.

Denae finished eating breakfast, or maybe it was lunch, and offered hesitantly, "Have you ever considered praying to, um... one of the other gods? Such as... Zeus?"

"Does he favor us? I suppose I could, as it can't do any harm. What do you know of this?" He seemed eager to discover what she knew of the god's schemes.

She was not so eager to cause a plot hole. "Um, I just think it's a good idea to, um, see what you might be able to... I mean, um, explore your... resources."

"Right," he agreed, still not disappointed. "Always a good idea."

She scratched her head, realizing she was nervous but without knowing why.

In puzzlement she asked, "Are you anxious at all? A little, um, nervous? Anything?"

"About Arkantos? I can't say I am. He's very capable of handling the battle on his own," Marcus reassured her.

"Well, I know, but it does feel a bit... I don't know, uncomfortable to just sit here and wait. Like I should be watching or something."

She missed the control and the feel of the computer game, noticing finally that this was very, very different. She supposed you couldn't just train more troops or summon a flying purple hippopotamus on a whim. Real life had a lot more limitations.

"Do you wish to watch from the cliff?" he offered.

"Sure, I guess." At least, she consoled herself, she knew she didn't get sick at the sight of dead bodies. That much she found out early this morning.

Marcus nodded, "Well, then, save your breath for the climb."

He motioned to one of the servants whom he apparently knew to be Arkantos', then led him and Denae through the rows of tents which spread very close to the face of the cliff. Unlike the cliff in the game, there was no wide grassy slope to ascend. Instead there was a steep, winding, rocky path. She apologized to her knees ahead of time.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here," Marcus said, excusing himself with a nod.

Arkantos' servant nodded for her to go first so he could be her safety net, which was a comforting thought. She clambered over some rocks at the bottom first before reaching the path itself which was a couple meters high where it started. After that it was just slow and steady. Practically crawling, she walked on both hands and feet, which thankfully kept her from slipping the whole way up. She sighed when she touched grass again, and conceded with herself that she wasn't _that_ old. Her students' parents were all over forty, so she didn't have so much to worry about as long as they could manage the stress of having kids in college. However, she still dearly wished she had taken up jogging.

Below her stretched the body of tents. It didn't seem clear whether it looked bigger or smaller from the top of the thirty meter cliff. The part of her brain that dealt with perspective insisted that things were smaller from a distance, but the rest of her was pretty sure that it was bigger because now she could see _all_ of it.

Turning away, she looked to the other side where the pirates held their campground. As she walked toward the opposite edge, the safety net reminded her to crouch low so they wouldn't be seen. This side of the island was sandier, the beach continuing much further inland, and the pirates' tents sprawled in it. The Egyptian-clothed raiders were congregating in front of the tents to face the water, surrounding a stolen trident, but they were making no lines and it sounded like they were shouting at each other. A minotaur emerged from the throng and shut them all up with a roar.

With the wind in their sails, Arkantos' ships were approaching fast toward some pirate ships that started to volley arrows at the oncoming army. Still, the Greek triremes made quick work of the black sails and released the excited warriors onto land and on the enemy.

As the fighting progressed and, in general, more pirates fell than Greeks, Denae caught herself half-expecting the cinematography to take over any moment. Blaming it on today's – or rather the future's – culture, she watched on.

After not too long, the minotaur, Kamos, started running away. Arkantos and a few of his men followed quickly after him. Unable to catch up and engage him in a fight, they chased on. Kamos ran up a hill that peaked right over the water and created an eroded cliff (not as high as the one she was on), backing himself up against the edge to give Arkantos the impression that it was a dead end.

Denae was the first one to see the Leviathan emerge from the depths and silently creep its way across the surface of the water toward the spot directly under Kamos. It waited.

It waited the amount of time it took to say, "Another time, Arkantos! Your luck will end – I will be there to see it. Your head will hang from my mast, Atlantean!" Then Kamos jumped.

Arkantos leaned over the edge and watched the leviathan carry his enemy away, while he had no methods to stop him. It was definitely not one of the Admiral's best moments.

Denae climbed back down the path, which was much harder than going up, and reached the bottom to find the army disembarking on the beach. She went to the campfire and sat by Marcus. Eventually, the soldiers settled down as well, they all ate, and finally headed for bed.

Before Denae left, however, Arkantos, looking exhausted, addressed Marcus. "Now that we have the trident back, surely Poseidon has answered us!"

The frail shoulders slumped as the old man sighed. "No, Arkantos. I think with some certainty that Poseidon has other things on his mind. He may even be seeking to harm us, so we must take extra caution."

Arkantos refused to be let down. Poseidon had always favored him. If Poseidon let him down now, there was no hope. There was always hope. There just had to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** This chapter's an in-betweeny thing, I guess. I wanted to write it, but it didn't fit in one of the scenarios. I thought at first that there would be more, but changed my mind when there really was no solution to Denae's problem. I had to read up a bit on Triremes, finding out that I was pretty wrong about the way they set up camp on the first island, while also finding out about there being no solution to Denae's recently aforementioned problem. There is absolutely no room for dinghys - weird Ancient Greek ones or not - and the ships actually _have_ to be beached pretty often because the soft, light wood they were made of soaked up with water too easily, requiring some maintenance. So... just pretend that I never said anything about the dinghy-things and that each trireme _doesn't _need 170 rowers.

* * *

She wanted off the boat. She wasn't seasick, she was simply very, very bored.

_Of course_ none of the usual entertainment was available, such as TV or the internet, but there wasn't even a single book to read. Nor were there people to talk to whenever Marcus was sleeping, which was most of the time, because everyone was so busy running the ship. At one point she unsuccessfully tried to make herself useful, and then she found that if she wandered around on deck she got in the way. Far too many people suggested she go below decks where there were places to sit or interesting planks of wood to stare at. The whole _point_ was that she wanted to be on the main deck, in the open air, with at least a little scenery.

It was a shame that she was too occupied with her state of boredom and frustration to hear what only she could hear: the distant thundering... like someone pounding on an enormous door far, far below her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **Back to normal chapter length, everyone. I didn't even realize how much I was writing about so little until I went back to check and found four pages. They appeared like magic almost! I thought I'd only written 2 pages, but there were 1,541 words right in front of me! And in 3 hours... that was something. I must have been getting something out of my system, writing so quickly.

As you can see, I quite enjoyed describing Ajax. I mean, the game designers put a bear on his head for Christ's sake! Golden opportunity for descriptive narration.

And there's more dialogue this time. I like dialogue.

* * *

They did stop at an island every couple days to beach the ships and rest the crew, but Denae didn't like knowing that she would get back on a boat the next morning. After more than a week of this, she was ecstatic to be back on ground that wasn't moving. She could have kissed the grass, but decided against it.

It was just as Homer had described it, only the added perspective made it very, very different. Ships were beached along a mile stretch and the camps of armies of all the city-states of Greece were sprawled across the landscape. Further in the distance than she had expected were the walls of Troy itself, standing like a white blob on a hill in the haziness toward the horizon. A dirt road ran all the way from the city to an area now occupied by Greeks – the remains of a coastal town that once belonged to Troy.

A man stood by a campfire at the top of the beach, waiting for them to reach him. As soon as Arkantos, Marcus, Denae, and several Hoplites arrived at the spot the king spoke, "Arkantos! By the gods! I-I did not expect mother Atlantis would send her best admiral to fight for me!"

"Gracious words, King Agamemnon." Arkantos bowed slightly just as he was cast in the shadow of a towering figure. Denae assumed it was a man, but his massive size and the bear hide – head included – on his shoulders didn't reveal the truth. The fact that bears don't usually wear Greek armor was the only giveaway. At the sight of him, Arkantos greeted, "And look at this – Ajax! I'm surprised to see you still drawing breath!"

Ajax either chuckled or growled, and said, "These Trojan dogs keep trying, my friend... good to see you again. Who did you upset to get sent so far from home?"

"Well... someone had to come to help you put an end to this," replied Arkantos lightly.

The bear-man nodded and added, more seriously, "Helen is held behind their walls, and we've had little luck breaking through."

Agamemnon finally seized a chance to put a word in. "We're about to change that. You have arrived in time for our final push, Arkantos. Get your men ashore. You can make your camp to the east – but be careful. The Trojans have some scouts in that area. When you are done, we will start preparations for our assault," he finished haughtily. Sticking his nose in the air, the King of the Achaeans stalked off to his men.

As soon as Agamemnon was out of hearing, Ajax sighed. "He's always like this. Nine and a half years here isn't anything to be happy about, but at least Achilles stopped pouting in his ship and got his butt out here. And you're here, too! We might actually win a few fights for once!"

"What was wrong with Achilles?" Arkantos questioned.

"Had a row with Agamemnon, actually. Over a girl. Even the gods intervened."

"I had no idea things were so bad."

Ajax laughed suddenly, even more shocking because his voice naturally had a slight roar. "Ha! Odysseus has sure been a sight! Running back and forth to make their agreement for them, looking like all he wants to do is smack their heads together! I almost wish he had, but hey, at least it's over."

Arkantos raised his eyebrows. "Honestly, I'm glad I missed it. I didn't come to watch the Greeks quarrel with themselves."

"The only other thing to see is Trojans winning," Ajax said with a hint of venom – not toward Arkantos, but the Trojans. Even his thick beard appeared to be bristling with hatred.

"We'll change that, Ajax." They shook hands by the wrist.

"I certainly hope so." With that, he bowed his head slightly and lumbered off toward his troops.

Arkantos turned to Marcus, who looked a bit surprised at the state of things, and to Denae, who didn't. "Let's get our ships on the other side of these trees at set up camp so we can _eat_," he ordered impatiently and stalked off toward the water with the rest of his men who had come ashore.

"What was the point of us even being here for that whole conversation?" Denae asked Marcus.

"To make Arkantos look more important," he grumbled as he followed the Admiral.

Denae sighed and looked at the thick clump of oak trees that stood in the way of their campground. When they were back on the boats and directing them to a spot not much farther down the beach, a young man at the bow spotted the small group of Trojans on the other side of the trees. They had probably been spying on the Greeks for days, and Agamemnon hadn't even considered poking around in this rather obvious hiding spot. He seemed to know they were there, but it was unclear why he didn't bother to deal with them.

Denae figured he was just lazy.

By the time the scouts were visible, though, they had already seen the ships and were more prepared for the fight than the Atlanteans. Arrows came flying soon after the warning, so she hid below decks with the old priest and waited for the fight to finish. Before the shouting stopped, though, she felt the hull run onto the sand as the ship was beached. She took a peek and saw one horseman running away and five more quickly following. It didn't look like they would catch up.

She hopped off the boat, easier said than done as she thanked the gods for sand, and huffily sat down to the west of the boats and the beginnings of a camp. The initial gladness that had come with being on land for once had dissipated with the bad news. She'd studied – rather than read – the Iliad many, many times owing to her profession as a mythology teacher, so she knew how things were going to be and that they would get better. Still, the sour mood spread whether she was surprised by events or not.

Arkantos approached her, and she had to try very hard not to scowl at him. She thought her body language and facial expression were making it quite clear that she wanted to be left alone for a bit, even if alone-time didn't help in the least. He didn't seem to notice because of his own foul mood, and asked, "How long do you suppose we'll be here?" He implied that _here_ was a very disgusting place.

"Give it six months," she snapped.

"Hmpf." The noise suggested that it preceded a sarcastic, or at least snide, remark. "We'll just make ourselves at home, then."

"Great."

"Hmm."

"_Hmm_... what?" she insisted waspishly.

He ventured into dangerous territory unawares, remarking, "_You_ seem a bit annoyed about something."

"Really?!" She won the award for bitter sarcasm with that.

"Yes." He took a deep breath because here came the plunge. "Is there anything I can do for you?" While I deal with my own problems, thank you very much, he added to himself.

"Unless you can find me a proper bed, a good book, and a cup of coffee, I don't think so! I'm homesick, I'm sore, I'm irritable, and I want coffee!" said Denae, standing up because she couldn't contain the energy required for anger sitting down.

He forgot about his own ill-temperedness for a brief moment, wondering what on earth coffee could be, then he remembered to retort, "As the Achaeans fail to fight off the Trojans, is that it? Just sit here a-and huff up a storm while I'm left to win the war that the Greeks started and are too distracted by greed to win themselves?!"

"Well, now that you're here I'm not worried about anything, am I? You're here to save the day! We can all go home now and leave it to Arkantos because he's favored by the gods! No more worries, everyone—"

"Please, please! Peace, bickering couple!" Marcus put a hand on each shoulder and shoved them apart forcefully, though they continued to glare at one another. "The riders who chased the scout are returned."

Arkantos' attention immediately snapped to Marcus at those words. "Is the Trojan dead?" he inquired.

"No." He saw Arkantos open his mouth but raised his hand to stop him. "But they did manage to do a little bit of scout work on the way back. There's a bear in the area, possibly more than one."

"Bears?! You came to talk to me about bears! But the Trojans will know we're here!"

Marcus patted him on the shoulder and walked away, giving Arkantos absolutely nothing to do with the anger he'd just built up. He slowly deflated.

Denae crossed her arms and sat down again. For a little while Arkantos stared at nothing and his expression changed from angry, to peeved, to confused. He eventually walked away like a limp balloon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note:** Another chapter! I'm writing a lot slower now because I've got so many rehearsals, and I also have to practice/memorize things at home, so I haven't been able to spend much time on it. Will spend a couple hours on chapter 9 tonight and tomorrow morning, and hopefully I'll finish the chapter!

* * *

No, this wasn't Ajax playing a prank. It was a real bear. Denae woke up to shouts and unpleasant crashing noises that suggested paws ripping apart food crates. Having experienced bears in campgrounds in the past, she felt brave enough to peek out of her tent.

Lots of the men had already got torches and were waving them about threateningly, though keeping their distance. It took its nose out of the smashed remains of a barrel of fish and faced them, growling. This was no timid black bear, she could see. It had the hump of muscle over its shoulders, a sure sign that it was a brown bear. And this was a hungry one.

It began to slowly approach some of the soldiers who threatened it with spears, but it didn't seem frightened. The small black pits for eyes looked ravenous, so clearly the bear was too desperately starving to give up a food source.

Arkantos, barefoot and half-clad in armor, wielding his spear wildly, came bursting out of a tent nearby. He ran up to the beast and the other men smiled and cheered as they let him pass. Arkantos, wearing only a tunic and his armor belt – which Denae thought was pretty stupid – circled the bear which he stared straight in the eye. The excited exclamations of the first soldiers who had been on watch and spotted the bear woke up more people who came out of their tents to watch. Also barely dressed, nearly all of them were wearing only tunics, which was the only article of clothing they owned other than armor, but a couple men lacked even that. Denae looked away hastily, keeping her focus on Arkantos' rash prodding of the bear.

Everyone was watching by the time the bear stood up, no taller than Arkantos, and roared in agony and rage. It landed heavily, but the man wasn't shaken and it only made him more excited. Rearing up again, the bear received a spear through its chest.

It looked surprised more than anything, uttering no more than a shocked grunt.

Arkantos pulled out the spear and moved aside as it fell forward and landed with a relatively loud thump. It was a small bear, after all, with six feet of height standing up and a mere two-hundred and twenty pounds. For a bear, it wasn't much. It could have been a lot bigger with more food and fewer antagonizing humans.

Denae felt sorry while the rest of the camp cheered. Arkantos made a show of hoisting up its head and turning it to face everyone with its neck in the crook of his arm. No one else seemed to care that the creature's skin sagged as though held up by nothing but bones and more than one scar marred its body. It had been antagonized by its own species, too.

So... there was another bear out there that was bigger and tougher and using up the food resources of its dead counterpart. It was a bully. Denae wanted to see Arkantos try to spear that one so easily.

She went back to sleep, trying not to think about it.

* * *

"He is out of the way. You must go to Ioklos, Gargarensis."

He looked up and raised his eyebrow in curiosity. "Ioklos?"

Chains rattled in the distance and the voice in Gargarensis' ear replied, "Buried beneath the acropolis! A door... a door and stairs. You find the Tartarus Gate... tear it down!" With an angry roar the titan's voice faded away and Gargarensis felt alone. He didn't need to know _how_ Kronos managed to speak with him, only that kneeling and bowing his head brought a presence that made the cyclops' horn tingle.

Blinking his eye slowly at the blue horizon, he muttered, "In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid, / Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade. / Stiff flags straining in night-blasts cold / In the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold. So... Arkantos has arrived at Troy."

"What's that, milord?"

Gargarensis whipped his head around and stood up, staring down at the man who had interrupted his thoughts. He had thought he was alone at the stern of the ship, but apparently he was wrong.

"Reset our course and sail for Ioklos!" he ordered.

"Y-yes, sir!" stammered the man who trembled in the shadow of Gargarensis' huge frame. The cyclops did that to people a lot.

"And fetch me Kemsyt," he added bitterly.

* * *

"Fetch me my officers!" cried Arkantos. No sooner had dawn broken than a scout returned having seen a group break off from the Trojan camp toward the Atlanteans.

"Fights follow one another quickly on the battlefields at Troy, don't they?" Marcus commented aside to Denae. They were sitting by the breakfast fire, watching Arkantos frustrate himself.

"Certainly," Denae replied, "except when someone important dies and the entire camp has to throw a funeral party with feasts and competitive games."

Marcus furrowed his eyebrows, not taking it so lightly as Denae had hoped, and did not speak again.

Arkantos continued shouting, "The order is simple! Prepare your men, then line them up on top of that blasted hill! Now get on with it!"

"Yes, sir!" the inexperienced lieutenant squeaked.

"Blasted fools!" He wanted to stick his spear in something, but nothing was readily available for sticking besides the ground, and it was always a hassle to dig spearheads out of the dirt. Instead, he snatched some sausage off of someone else's plate and gnashed a bite out of it.

The poor soldier whose food had been raided tried to ignore it and seemed to huddle toward the ground while remaining seated.

After an hour or so, the army was assembled in disorder at the bottom of the hill. In another ten minutes they were marching to the top in order. Denae, watching them stomp away, sighed at the state of her clothes. She wanted to change out of her jeans and run them through the heavy duty wash cycle three times. She expressed this to the old priest, who was the only person to talk to at the moment, but with much less passion than she felt. "These damn clothes! Argh, I want to... to _clean_ them! Or rip them apart!"

"The women in the Greeks' camp will have spare clothes for you, I'm sure," the old man recommended.

"Oh. Right. I forgot about them. The... prizes won in battle, right. Huh." She heaved herself up off the ground and left Marcus alone with the tents and the servants, heading down the beach, determined.

Fifteen minutes' walk down the line of ships where she got more than a few stares from Greek soldiers, she found the women grouped together. They had a sort of outside lounge arranged on the sand, and they laid or sat together closely, some playing with others' hair or clothes, and some elegantly drinking from their bowls of wine. They didn't look much different than young women eating lunch on a campus lawn.

They looked up at her as soon as she was several yards away. One brunette with curls and penciled eyebrows called, "I say, stranger! You look so weary and peculiar... come sit down."

"I will," she replied courteously and adding, "I was hoping to ask for some clothes so I can take these dirty ones off."

In unison, every set of thick eyelashes turned as the women gazed at her attire in speechless disgust.

"I fell from the sky a couple weeks ago as a message from Helios if that makes you feel any better about it," she retorted.

"Oh... yes. We'll get you something straight away!" The fair-skinned blonde who just spoke called a servant over with her hand. "Go to Achilles' ship and take from my clothes chest a belt and gown for this woman."

The servant bowed and did so, running off to do the woman's bidding.

"You are Briseis," Denae deduced.

"Yes," she answered, curving her lips upward into a smile of interest. Her eyes were big as though innocent, but under those eyelashes she was full of beguiling secrets and enticing visions. As for her figure... her genes had wanted it very clearly established that she was a _woman_, and the way Briseis held herself suggested she knew it. She inquired politely, "And your name, star of Helios?"

"Denae. And not really a star, as such." _You won't be smiling so much when you start finding wrinkles,_ she thought, while admitting with satisfaction that she only had a couple of crinkles herself – not enough to be called wrinkles.

"Very well. Come, sit down with us for a moment and have something to drink. Wine or water?"

"Please, water."

Another hand was gently lifted to signal a second servant.

Despite all her subtlety and poise, she could not have been more than nineteen or twenty years old. Denae saw lots of nineteen and twenty year old girls, and she knew Briseis was one of them – the girl who has every boy wrapped around her finger. The fact that all these women were prizes for each man in battle did not quell their egos; it may not be honorable, but it sure does prove what they knew men thought of them.

After the bowl of water was finished and the servant returned from Achilles' ship, Denae escaped their circle and their stares for the privacy of her tent. The gown was meant to drape loosely, and trying it on, Denae found that it fit, but was too long. She tucked a bit of it into the belt, which seemed to solve the problem, and ignored the fact that it felt a little odd wearing tennis shoes with it. She mourned the lack of mirrors for a brief moment, then exited the tent and looked for something to do.

As usual, there wasn't.

Unless you think it's entertaining to watch a bear being skinned – that being the only event in the entire campsite.

At noon she sought the shade of the clump of oak trees, resting comfortably for a full five minutes before she was interrupted. She ignored the rustling noises coming from several feet away at first, but then the something whinnied impatiently and Denae opened her eyes to give it the desired attention.

It stomped its hooves and bobbed its great, white head while its wings ruffled restlessly. Pegasus whinnied again and came closer when she stood up, opening one wing to the ground like a ramp to its shoulders.

"What... must I?" Denae questioned the leaves above her and the gods.

Pegasus nodded and demanded that she mount his back with a few more stamping feet.

She sighed and approached the creature, trying to see how she could get on without falling off. It didn't seem likely.

The trouble always was trying not to step up with the foot she had to sling over the side. After some thoughtful planning, Denae edged herself onto the wing, then onto its back. Thankfully it had a bridle and reigns for her to hold on to, though they were more of a security blanket than actual control over the animal. As soon as she was in position, but before she was done adjusting the gown which was uncomfortably bunched underneath her, the winged horse trotted North out of the trees, started galloping on the more open terrain, and took off. She squeezed with her knees on its sides and tried to resist the temptation to wrap her arms around its neck and cling for dear life, as Pegasus was bobbing and constantly being buffeted about by the wind. The first up-drift had felt like a roller coaster, only the car wasn't on tracks and there was a serious risk of falling off. She gripped the reigns with such force that she turned her knuckles white.

Feeling lucky that she wasn't also afraid of heights, she looked around at the landscape several hundred feet beneath her. There seemed to be a lot more of it now. The battle was still going, and it seemed that more Greeks had joined and pushed the Trojans back quite a bit. The sound rose up from the field and Denae almost thought she could hear Arkantos shout his battle cry that encouraged all the troops around him. In the game, they glowed blue and gained a short bonus, but in – for lack of a better word – real life, the soldiers simply cheered and attacked the enemy a bit more vigorously.

Pegasus started gliding, only causing him to drift down a little and very slowly, and Denae sighed. Relaxing in her seat, she was then caught off guard when he had to flap his wings again to keep from being blown over sideways by a stray breeze, almost falling off. She didn't relax her grip ever again.

Strangely enough, if felt much more natural to watch events from up there. She still had no strategic control, but at least it started to resemble the familiar game interface. Minus the buttons and info boxes.

After the Trojans were pushed back halfway across the plain, they started to set up camp in the evening sun. The Greeks did likewise, just close enough to hold their position, while the Atlanteans marched back to the shore. These camps were much more temporary, since there were no tents – only fires and soldiers sleeping on the ground. Denae didn't stay to watch after that started, because Pegasus flew back and landed near the original clump of trees before the sun finished setting.

She pulled herself off its back with much effort, and somehow managed to land on her feet. To the mythical creature, she said, "My butt is one big bruise, thanks to you."

It flopped its head around and snorted, then laid down on a bed of leaves a little ways away from her.

"Hmpf," she replied, and went back to her tent.

She was so focused on trying to walk on stiff legs that she didn't see or hear Arkantos until he stopped her. "Where did you get the horse?"

"Oh, um, it just came up to me—"

"From the water?"

"Er… no. The sky, more like. Came flying down, I think. It just walked up to me with a bridle on, and wouldn't stop bugging me until I got on."

"Hmm."

"Um, yes."

"And you got some clothes."

"Yes."

"Hmm."

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" she reminded him.

He nearly jumped. "Oh! Yes. We pushed the Trojans back, and Agamemnon finally told us what to do. He wants me and my men to take the north east dock that's supplying the Trojans. Tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I'll just stay here as always, then."

"Right." He looked at nothing in particular in the distance. "I don't know why I always tell you what's going on."

"Me neither."

"Hmm," he repeated.

"I guess it's nice to know. You tell Marcus, right?"

He turned back toward her finally. "Yes. Well. Good night."

"You too."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Longest, but possibly most important chapter yet. It felt like it took ages to write it, too. I am sorry about the lateness of my last two chapters, but this is dress rehearsal week and shows start in two days, and I've been working my butt off at every rehearsal. Anyhow, this chapter is pretty serious, and if I were to rewrite this as a novel, it would come much sooner than chapter 9. It's where - I'm hoping - the story gets interesting.

As for the names of seige weapons, I checked and made sure I used the right names, but I had to get slightly inventive with the plurals.

* * *

Agamemnon was in a very good mood. The Greeks had the advantage now that they had pressed the Trojans back and destroyed two of their crucial resources. Plus he enjoyed burning things.

"Ahh, and here he comes, Odysseus, a champion of Atlantis, sent to fight in my army. Join us, Arkantos – you know the famous Odysseus, surely."

"I know of him – your reputation precedes you." Arkantos bowed slightly to Odysseus.

Odysseus did likewise, replying, "As does yours. Are you ready for the siege? We could use your advice in planning our attack."

With a hint of melodrama, Agamemnon took control of the conversation. "As the _commander_ here, I have already taken care of the plans, Odysseus. You and Arkantos will take your armies, and start the siege of the gates."

"That's a fine start," said Arkantos, not entirely sure he meant it. Hoping Agamemnon had at least a little more in mind, he also carefully suggested, "What about the other armies?"

"Ajax and I will keep our men in reserve. When you get through, Ajax will rush his men in to clear out the Trojan defenders. Then I will enter and rescue Helen." With a proud but ridiculous gesture of his hand to his chest, he stuck his nose in the air, turned on his heel, and walked away. He usually walked away in that manner, in fact.

Odysseus and Arkantos exchanged a meaningful glance. "I hope this works," said the glance.

The man from Ithaca scratched his head. "Huh. I find it interesting that Agamemnon's plan depends on the Trojans doing nothing."

Denae, who was again standing with Arkantos and Marcus for no apparent reason, was thrilled to be in the presence of her favorite hero. She read the _Odyssey_ even more often than the _Iliad_, and was now almost face to face with the man she knew better than her own mother. She resisted the temptation to stare at him in awe, though the result was that she stared at him with a look of forcibly restrained curiosity. She hung on his every word.

"We can always hope," Arkantos replied.

"And pray," Odysseus added.

Marcus decided it was his turn and said, "Indeed."

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" Denae asked uncertainly.

Odysseus scratched his beard. "Given that we will most likely be resisting Trojan attacks whilst we build siege equipment, then there's the task of actually breaking down the gate... yes. This will take a while."

* * *

Two months later, the gate was as sturdy as ever, and Denae had gone far past the point of saddle sores. Riding Pegasus for several hours every day had persuaded her leg muscles to buck up a bit and get used to it. Besides that, she'd seen far too many skirmishes, raided donkey caravans, and broken siege weapons while on her observation flights, and she was getting tired of the monotony of slow progress. Then again, what else would she expect? The Trojan War was famous for its length and pointlessness.

Denae prevented herself from mentioning any wooden horses, for fear that it would do something drastic and horrible to the story arc. It was tempting, since she wanted so badly to end the war, and there was always the possibility that it wouldn't cause anything terrible, but she didn't want to take any risks.

To top it all off, worsening the general feeling of irritation, it was hot. It was sometime in July or August in Turkey, meaning consistent temperatures above ninety degrees Fahrenheit and no rain to ease the suffering. Thankfully the coast provided a breeze, but that didn't prevent the sun from throwing down its rays like burning javelins. At first, Denae's Seattle skin tone was baked like a sun-dried tomato, but she was outside so much that when the burn peeled off, she started tanning. Indoors simply didn't exist, so something inside her flipped the switch and she started to toughen up to meet the environment's standards.

The day after an important progression toward the gate, Denae woke up to find her ears were tingling.

Despite the unusual condition, the rest of the morning was very normal. Following breakfast, the usual meeting in Arkantos' tent commenced.

Arkantos began, "Yesterday we pushed much closer to the gate, and I hope we can do as much today." Then he paused and turned to the priest with interest. "Marcus, I had an interesting dream last night in which the gods came to me."

"Go on," the old man offered.

"I was standing in front of the Great Temple in Atlantis, when Zeus came directly towards me and Poseidon approached me from behind. Suddenly, the temple disappeared and in its place was a great door leading into the earth. Poseidon told me to open it, but Zeus ordered I keep it closed. I did not do anything, for the door was shaking as something was pounding on it from the inside, making the floor tremble. Then the door began to swing open very slowly and I could see nothing but darkness on the other side. I woke up before it could emerge."

The circle, entranced by the dream, was silent.

Odysseus eventually broke the silence, saying, "That is ominous, indeed."

Marcus nodded slowly and began, "You must be of some importance to the gods, Arkantos. It seems they are fighting... over you."

"It would seem that way, but I think they are truly fighting over what happens to the thing behind the door, and that I am – or will be – an obstacle... an object." Only in front of this small, close group would Arkantos say something so diminishing.

"An object of _importance_," Marcus insisted, "or why else would they not simply fight each other?"

Odysseus jumped in. "He is right. Even if you are an obstacle to them, you are a powerful one that can't simply be stamped out."

"Or a powerful tool," Denae added. "Perhaps they need you."

Arkantos was thinking. Tools and objects were certainly things he didn't want to be... yet the gods needed him. For what? "How will I know what to do? I don't know what's behind the door, and I fear it, but I have prayed to Poseidon all my life and he has been my guide. I cannot think Poseidon would wish harm to me or the world... besides Zeus. Who, then, do I trust?"

"Yourself," Marcus answered.

Considering this, Arkantos asked himself what to do next, and realized he knew. "I'm going to find out what the thing is before I choose anything. Denae and Marcus, sacrifice a goat to Poseidon and to Zeus, and hopefully one of them will provide the information we need."

"We will," Denae replied and nodded.

Arkantos nodded which they both took as a dismissal, but then he gestured that only she stay. He then turned to the only Greek man in the room and said, "Odysseus, I pray you do not let my dream trouble you, for we have a task at hand."

"True enough, so I will speak of it. Much of my siege was damaged in the last fight. We don't have time to repair it if we want to continue before the Trojans reinforce their gate."

"My Helepoli are still in good condition and we haven't even begun to use the Petrobolosi. I think we have enough siege weaponry to take on two more days like yesterday, which will be enough to complete the job, surely."

"We are almost there."

"Order your men to ready a few of the Petrobolosi, then, and prepare to leave by noon."

"I will." Odysseus shook Arkantos' hand and exited the tent.

Denae began, "Did you ask—"

"I left something out," Arkantos said simultaneously.

"Pardon?"

He turned away from her, leaning on the back of a nearby chair. "I left something out of my dream when I told it in front of Marcus and Odysseus."

"What—"

"I'm going to tell you what it is," Arkantos said urgently, interrupting her again.

Denae waited. He seemed determined to tell her, but remained unsure as to how. "Yes?" she prompted.

He woke up from staring at the floor, a little startled. "Oh," he said. He stopped leaning on the chair and moved it over to the side, sitting down on the carpet where it was. He stared at a spot on the floor, and Denae supposed she should sit there. The moment she did, though, he sounded a sharp intake of breath and sprung up again. He had too much nervous energy to sit down, so he started pacing by the entrance to the tent with his arms and hands flat at his sides and his neck bowed so that his head was almost perpendicular to his shoulders. After a moment of this, he snapped out of it to stare at Denae who stood up slowly, watching his strange behavior. "You were in it," he stated blankly. He suddenly remembered something and his face went from blank to confused and anxious. "You were... I mean, when the dream started, you and I were standing alone in front of the Great Temple. First we saw Zeus and when he was close, Poseidon came from behind and put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and faced him while I faced Zeus. That was when the temple disappeared with the door in its place. Poseidon spoke first, telling you to open it. Zeus told me to keep it closed. Poseidon pulled you away and I couldn't see you or turn, or move. I could only hear your voice, calling my name and screaming, 'I can change it! It doesn't have to happen!' Zeus said again to close the gate, and that was when I noticed that it was opening. Smoke and strange, dead light were coming through it. The thing inside roared so loud that it drowned you out, even your screaming voice, and when it stopped, everything was silent. But at the same time as the sudden silence, you appeared next to me again, kneeling on the ground, bent over, and your hand in mine. Zeus told me to close the door again, came closer and said it a fourth time, all while the gate was slowly opening. It was halfway, and then the dream ended."

Arkantos breathed slowly for a moment, then sat down on the floor, this time to stay. Once he had started telling the story, it was much easier to keep going, but it had drained him to release so many words and meanings all at once.

Denae sat down on the floor in front of him and stared at her hands in her lap. Her ears were still tingling, and now it was worse. "I screamed?"

"I can change it... it doesn't have to happen," Arkantos repeated softly.

"I'm wrong. I can't change it. And if I can... I shouldn't."

He stared at her. "Change what?"

Denae forced herself to look at him, but she only lasted a moment. She turned her head away again to look at the floor next to her. She thought she heard something banging deep within the earth, and wondered why the soft yet resounding sound was even reaching her. Taking a deep breath, she ignored it and answered Arkantos' question. "If I told you, I would be changing it. I can't change it."

"Change..."

"I can't change it."

Outside the tent a few minutes later, Denae found Odysseus just finishing his orders to his troops. They dispersed and started bustling about their jobs, eager to be nearly done with the siege.

"Odysseus!" Denae called before he could walk away.

"Yes?" he replied, following her beckoning hand toward her.

"Please tell me that the future cannot be changed."

He immediately agreed, "The future cannot be changed."

"Tell it to me like a command."

He put his hand on her shoulder and ordered sincerely, "Don't mess about with fate, Denae, or you'll receive the gods' fiery wrath." Then he took his hand off her shoulder and smiled, "Was that good enough?"

"Yes. Now make me swear that I will never, ever change the future or fate or any of those things that have to happen for the sake of the... world." She had almost said 'story,' but she remembered just in time that it was not all about plot to Odysseus as it was to her.

"Hold up your right hand, then, and recite after me." She raised her hand as she was ordered, and Odysseus continued, "I, Denae, do hereby solemnly swear..."

"I, Denae, do hereby solemnly swear..."

"—that under no circumstances will I change or attempt to change fate or the future..."

"Under no circumstances will I change or attempt to change fate or the future—"

"—or upset the worldly balance of events and their relation to time."

"Or upset the worldly balance of events and their relation to time."

"There."

"That was a very thorough vow. Very good."

"What was it for?" Odysseus asked curiously but softly, noting the very serious look on Denae's face.

She took a long, slow breath, then said, "It was to keep me from doing something extremely stupid."

"Which was?"

"Changing it. I can't change it. It has to happen. If it doesn't... it will never end. And I think a lot of people could die if I changed it. I can't change it. I can't." She started muttering similar thoughts, staring at something next to Odysseus' ear.

Concerned, he grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward the remains of the breakfast fire, sitting her down on a log that was used as a bench. He called a servant over for a bowl of wine, and when the servant returned Odysseus held it to her lips. She stopped muttering to take a sip of the medicinal liquid, holding the bowl with her own hands over Odysseus' so that she might steady it. After the first sip, he let her rest the bowl on her lap before taking his hands away, leaving the bowl in hers.

"Finish this," he said, patting her gently on the back, "then go help Marcus with the goats as Arkantos ordered. Don't worry too much about the future because the Fates have it under control and we have more important things to do."

Sitting next to her and continuing to massage her back with one hand, he stayed to watch her finish half of the wine, then stood up slowly. With one last pat on the shoulder, he walked away to tend to his duties.

Denae found Marcus a little while later on a bit of tent-free grass where the livestock – which was all stolen from Trojan farms outside the walls – was kept. The old man was arguing with another old man over whether or not the gods deserve a high-quality goat.

The goat-keeper insisted, "How are the gods gonna tell the difference, anyway, eh? You kill 'em and serve 'em up and burn 'em and by then you can't tell a calf from a squirrel."

"You act as though the gods do not watch the sacrifice!"

"They're so far away, how can they see us, eh? They're all high up on their mountain thing, and all they gets from us is the smoke. You think they can tell the difference?"

"Mount Olympus is always above us, and the gods can look down and see the entire world." The non-believer started to open his mouth, but Marcus stopped him by reasoning, "They're gods! They just do! That means they can see us performing a lousy sacrifice!"

Denae interrupted, "Um, yes, Marcus is right. Anyhow, we just need two goats of very similar quality, so that they don't think we've got favorites or something. Trouble with simultaneous sacrifices, that."

"Whaddya need two for?"

"We need some questions answered, and it involves both Zeus and Poseidon. You wouldn't want to get either of them angry, let along both, would you?"

"Er... no."

"Right. Two goats."

The man picked two animals out of the group – which had about fifteen total – and looped rope leashes around their necks. They were in very similar condition, indeed, though that condition was not at best. Marcus was about to argue some more, but Denae stopped him because she'd suffered too much trauma in the last ten minutes to try to end the fight all over again. The priest grumbled something to himself and grabbed the rope leashes to lead the goats to the altars near the beach.

Whispering aside to Denae when Marcus was a little farther off, the goat-herder said, "Do you really believe in all that... you know, gods and things?"

She sighed. "No, because I don't need to. Trust me, seeing isn't believing. Once you just know, all the faith gets taken out of it. You're just left with a twinge of fear and the wish to avoid them if at all possible. People who get mixed up with gods in those stories end up badly for a reason."

"So, they are _there_?"

"Yes, but it's probably best if you just ignore them."

"Right. Well, those goats were gonna be slaughtered, anyway. They haven't eaten since yesterday, you know. That's what you have to do before you kills 'em. Didn't want to give you goats that weren't ready, or else you'd get some really stinkin' meat, eh?"

"Of course. Um, thank you."

Denae nodded and hurried after Marcus, eager to get the job done and over with.

Making animal sacrifices was always a little unnerving. Things burned up far faster than normal, and a much smaller amount of ashes remained than there should have been. Then there was the matter of their terrible voices actually speaking to her. The sound always came from somewhere right behind her right ear; it was soft, but it echoed through all the tubes and chambers in her ear, sending all kinds of mixed signals to her brain so that she heard lots of other, strange things besides the voice itself.

It took well over thirty minutes to walk to the altars that had been built near the Atlanteans' previous campsite. There was a small drop where the grass stopped and the sand began, and on the grassy side of this was a half-ring of altars and a few sparse trees. Each was dedicated to a different god whose name was carved into the rough-hewn wood. There were at least twelve of these blood-stained tables, and they formed a semi-circle which opened toward the water. Sitting in the middle, a ring of stones and a charred patch of dirt suggested many past campfires.

"So, who's doing who?" Denae asked, pulling her stubborn goat forward the last few feet. Her face was sprinkled with droplets of sweat from the effort of dragging that creature for two miles.

Marcus panted and sat down on the altar of Hermes. He had the much more willing animal, but he was also old as dirt. He contemplated a bit, then answered, "I doubt Poseidon will answer to me, seeing as he's been ignoring me for longer than I care to admit. You pray to him, and I to Zeus."

"Alright, sounds reasonable." With a forceful tug on the rope, at the end of which the goat was still being mulish, she added, "If only this goat would budge! Three more feet! A couple of steps you stupid beast, move!"

The old man watched her frustration and laughed at her, but not in a mocking way. Unable to help but smile, she relaxed her pull for a bit to wipe some of the sweat off her neck. As soon as it had some slack from the leash, the goat walked casually into the half ring and bit into a chunk of juicy-looking grass next to Poseidon's altar. Whether it was just chance or not, Denae laughed out loud with Marcus in spite of herself.

After catching their breath and cooling off a little, they prepared themselves for the next step, which was to prepare the sacrifices. It was not at all the most pleasant thing to do, but it was better than what was to follow. It took a few hours to complete the process, and the sun was leaning to the west when the meat was finally skinned and carved. After that, it was another hour or so to cut out most of the fat and bones to offer to the gods. Being much leaner than sheep or cattle, goats as sacrifices were not considered as generous, but it did the job for the simple task at hand. A small offering, they hoped, would be sufficient to make the gods listen a little better, and with better favor.

There was still a meager stockpile of firewood nearby with which Denae built a small fire. They burnt the offal and set the offerings on the altars before burning those as well. When the altar fires were lit, Denae and Marcus exchanged a glance so that they could kneel and bow their heads simultaneously. Then the gods came.

Denae immediately heard the water rushing in her ears and the dampened sound of waves crashing distantly on the surface, mixed with the clatter of hooves on rock. Every noise was deeper as the water slowed and distorted the sound. She had to close her eyes to keep from getting dizzy with the feeling of being underwater when she really wasn't.

After a long moment of disorientation, the soft but resounding roar gained some clarity, and it suddenly had always been a voice saying, "Hello."

The little spiral of vibrating hairs behind her eardrum whimpered.

"Poseidon?" she asked, hopelessly forgetting anything she thought she would say. Her own voice sounded pathetically close and flat in comparison to that echoing sonorousness.

"Duh."

She shuddered. "I, um, just want to ask about that dream. That Arkantos had. That dream. You know. About you. Zeus. Me. Kronos."

"I still don't see why Zeus brought you into this. He wants you to let Arkantos die, anyway, so what's the point?"

"I have to let him die, don't I? Otherwise it all goes wrong."

"What goes wrong?"

"The story! Maybe it won't end and I'll be stuck in it, or maybe all the Atlanteans will die, or—"

"Right. And the Fates themselves will turn to dust or something, is that it? Look, the Fates don't work with threads, they work with tangled nets that change a little every time someone makes a decision. Threads don't just go one direction, and there's so much room for possibilities you could fit Mount Olympus itself in there. Then mortals go around thinking everything's decided for them, so they let themselves get killed. It's stupid."

A distant crash of splintering wood on rock mingled with the sound of his voice.

"Why don't you want Arkantos to die? You're the one helping Gargarensis."

"I do want Arkantos to die. I'm just telling you the truth."

"Which is?"

"You have the power, not Fate."

There was a moment of silence, except the unpleasant ocean ambience, then Poseidon took a bite out of something, presumably the sacrifice. The juicy fat dripped so he smacked his lips and licked his fingers, destroying part of the impact of his words.

"Despite popular belief," he said casually, "I'm very partial to goat fat. Has a different flavor to it somehow, and I quite like it. It also feels more like a treat, like dessert, unlike the pressure of one hundred cattle on your plate. That's like being in a one-man eating contest, and I always feel sick afterward."

"I didn't know gods could feel sick," Denae muttered.

"Perhaps it's a state of mind. Anyhow, I think our little discussion is over. You don't have any more questions, do you?"

"Why would you want to let Kronos out?"

"Bye, now!"

She surfaced and the tickling feeling of water dripping out her ears came with the un-distorted sounds of a gentle breeze and a crackling fire. Surprised by the sudden disappearance of aquatic surroundings, she opened her eyes and gasped for air, despite the fact that she had been breathing the whole time. The disorientation after speaking to minor gods was never this great, and none of them had ever been underwater. Sometimes the really unimportant ones came in person; in those circumstances their voices sounded normal, but her eyes hurt afterward. Poseidon was completely different.

Wondering if Zeus or Hades had any similar effects, she looked over at Marcus. He was lying down on his back and staring at the sky as though the world was a spinning top, and he had just been dropped inside it.

"Grthnhhhr," he said.

"Ndmmurrb," she replied.

He sat up and blinked while Denae went into a cross-legged sitting position instead of kneeling, while checking her ears for any more water. She was completely dry, and any drop of water that tried to reach her would have evaporated in the heat.

The old man shook his head and tried to regain balance, then spoke hoarsely, "I used to be accustomed to Poseidon's kingdom, but Zeus had nothing like it."

"What happened?"

"You'd think he'd be on top of a mountain, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he wasn't. He was on a throne flying through space, or maybe it was falling, I'm not sure. I sure felt like I was falling. And I didn't see anything, but there was no background noise, only his voice, and the awful feeling that I was flying, or falling, or floating."

"What did Zeus say?"

Marcus looked sharply at Denae and answered, "Poseidon is helping his son free Kronos, and _you_ already knew that."

She met his gaze and held it, questioning, "What else did he tell you?"

"He brought you here from... something else, I couldn't understand it. Said he had something in mind for you, but couldn't tell me what. Sounded like he wanted you to save us all from Kronos."

"Save you? But Arkantos is your real leader! He's the hero of the story, the savior of Atlantis' people! There's no room in the plot for me to do anything! Even Poseidon said he couldn't see why Zeus brought me here, so I certainly don't see the point!"

"I don't understand. You always talk about stories and plots as though everything is written down!"

"Well, isn't it?"

"I hope not! I like to think that my decisions have some effect on my life, don't you?"

She paused, but only momentarily. "I don't know," she breathed angrily. "What else did Zeus have to say?"

"That you would know how to win the Trojan War."

"What, he expects me to—no. Odysseus does that! It's supposed to be the way I read it, but Zeus is making it all wrong! I didn't want this!" She stood up and kicked one of the stones that lay around the fire. It rolled partway over for a second, then plopped back into place. "I mean," she added half-heartedly, staring at the rock, "I probably wondered at some point... what it would be like to be in Ancient Greece. But that wasn't a wish, and I never envisioned... this. This wearying action. And I can't say I'm not homesick, either."

"I'm homesick, too. So why haven't you ended the war yet?"

"I was waiting for Odysseus to do something."

He heaved himself off the ground and stood next to Denae. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I thought I knew how things were supposed to be. But they're not anymore."

Marcus nodded solemnly and began to clean up. Packing his bag with the still-fresh goat meat, he shuffled about while Denae stared at the crumbling oak branches in the fire. He even packed her bag for her and handed it to her; she accepted it subconsciously when he put it in her hand.

Ready to start walking back, he turned toward her again and pleaded quietly, "Please... just do something."


End file.
